


Bésame Mucho

by george_devalier_archive (brightbriar)



Series: Veraverse AU [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, M/M, Romance, veraverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2021-01-15 23:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightbriar/pseuds/george_devalier_archive
Summary: Lovino Vargas only ever wanted something exciting to happen in his boring, everyday Italian village existence. He never expected war, Resistance, love, passion, treason, or a cheerful, confusing, irritatingly attractive Spanish freedom fighter.(reposted from ff.net after the unfortunate deletion of George deValier's account in August 2019, with original formatting/italicisation!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I claim no ownership of this fic whatsoever! It was written by George deValier, and Hetalia of course belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I mean, this fic stole my heart, but I'm not trying to steal anything.
> 
> Unfortunately, as this fic was not saved in its entirety by the Wayback Machine, some author notes may be missing. Translations of phrases provided may also differ slightly from the original. That being said, the idea here is to be as faithful to the original as possible. Unless I make a note saying otherwise, all author notes following this are the original author notes!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the fic!
> 
> .
> 
> _This story is part of an ongoing WW2 AU of mine, called the Veraverse. This particular fic is a companion story to the Germany/Italy fic 'Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart.' I will try to keep it separate enough that you can understand it without reading 'Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart,' but it might make a little more sense if you do._
> 
> _YouTube /watch?v=c9V64EPA4NU_

_Spring, 1939_  
_A village in Italy_

* * *

"Lovino!"

Lovino did not turn at the sound of Feliciano running behind and shouting his name. He kept his eyes on the narrow dirt road, his fists clenched and his teeth gritted in irritation. The sun shone brightly overhead and a warm breeze drifted past, carrying the light, subtle scents of spring. Lovino barely noticed. His mind was still running through the events of the morning in the market. Every day, he heard the same things. '_Little Feliciano, I have the very best for you today!'… 'Oh, you didn't tell me you had such a cute brother, Lovino!'… 'Extra tomatoes? For you, Feliciano, absolutely!' _Lovino was used to feeling invisible around his little brother. But sometimes it became a bit too much. Sometimes, Lovino wished that something would happen around here: something important, something where he could make a difference rather than living in the shadow of his always cute, always sweet, always _noticeable_ little brother.

"Lovino, wait for me! Lovi… ARGH!"

Lovino spun around at the shriek to find Feliciano sprawled face first on the road. Lovino's stomach fell a little as he ran back and knelt swiftly beside his brother. "Feli, are you all right?"

Feliciano slowly pushed himself to his knees, brushed himself off, and smiled brightly. "You shouldn't walk so fast, Lovino, my legs aren't as long as yours and I can't keep up, and I don't think you always hear me when I call out and then accidents like this happen, but it's okay because I don't think I'm hurt only look, I did scrape my knee, do you think I need to see the doctor?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, holding out a hand to help Feliciano to his feet. "Don't be silly, you'll be fine." Why was he never able to stay upset with his little brother for long? "I'm sorry I was walking so fast." Once on his feet, Feliciano continued to cling to Lovino, swinging their hands between them as they continued down the road. Lovino shook his head in exasperation. Anyone would think his fourteen year old brother was actually a little child. No wonder the villagers at the market always thought he was so damn 'cute.' Lovino was barely a year older and yet he felt like the adult; the sensible, responsible one. But he let Feliciano hold his hand as they walked down the country road, eventually turning onto the narrow lane that lead to their small farmhouse.

"We're home, Grandpa!" Feliciano cried cheerfully as they walked through the front door.

"Welcome home, boys!" Grandpa Roma stood from his chair at the front table. Lovino went still when he noticed the man sitting opposite. Dark haired, shabbily dressed, with an olive complexion and wide, sparkling eyes. The young man flashed them a bright cheerful smile; Lovino eyed him warily.

"Who the hell are you?'

Roma glared at Lovino. "Watch your manners, young man." Lovino folded his arms and glanced sullenly at the ceiling. "This is a friend of mine. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

Feliciano looked completely confused. "Antonio... Fernando…"

"You might have to write that one down," said Lovino.

"Call me Antonio." The man stood. Lovino took a step backwards.

Roma smiled proudly as he took a step closer to his grandsons. "Antonio, this is Lovino, my oldest, and little Feliciano."

Antonio held out his hand to Feliciano, who took it in a careful handshake. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Feliciano!" Antonio's Italian was slightly accented.

"Hello! You speak funny."

Antonio laughed. "I am sorry about the accent. I am from Spain, and not used to speaking Italian."

Feliciano looked astonished. "Spain? Wow! Do you fight bulls? All Spanish people fight bulls. I read it once in a book, and there were pictures, but it made me very sad, because they were getting stabbed and it was all horrible and I ended up crying because it's just so terribly mean and wrong and... and… and it was so awful…" Feliciano blinked rapidly and sniffed. "Grandpa, I don't think I like your new friend." Lovino kicked Feliciano's foot.

Antonio laughed again. It was so wild and joyful. For some strange reason, Lovino felt his heart leap at the sound. "Feliciano, not all Spanish people fight bulls. I swear to you, I've never hurt a bull in my life."

Feliciano broke into a wide, relieved smile. "Oh, good. Well that's all right then, and I'm very sorry I said I don't like you, and I'm sure you're actually very nice."

Antonio laughed and Roma shrugged dotingly. Lovino tapped his foot and rolled his eyes. Here we go again. Someone else falling all over cute little Feliciano.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest thing," said Antonio. Feliciano tilted his head and flashed a blinding smile. Lovino looked away briefly in frustration, and when he glanced back, he found Antonio extending his hand to him. Lovino's eyes went wide, his brain froze, and he clasped his hands behind his back. Antonio dropped his hand immediately and just smiled. "And I am pleased to meet you, Lovino."

Lovino told himself to say something. Anything. To open his mouth. Now, damn it. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Grandpa Roma cuffed him over the head. "Don't be rude, Lovino. Antonio is here on a business meeting."

Lovino stared at the ground, burning with embarrassment. "Business? About the farm?" He tried to rub his head discreetly.

"Something like that. Boys, go and start dinner while we finish talking. We don't want to bore you!"

"Can we have pasta?" asked Feliciano eagerly.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea!" said Roma, smiling indulgently. Feliciano skipped happily into the next room but Lovino stayed where he was for a moment, glancing warily between Roma and Antonio. He did not know what this meeting was about, but he was willing to bet it had nothing to do with any 'business.' He was also willing to bet Grandpa Roma would not tell him anything about it. As much as Lovino felt like an adult compared to Feliciano, Grandpa Roma never treated him as anything but a child.

"Is something wrong, Lovino?" asked Roma. His tone was pleasant, but his eyes held a warning.

"No," said Lovino softly. "I'll go help Feliciano." He left the room without a backwards glance. As soon as he shut the kitchen door, however, he quickly grabbed a wine glass, held the rim against the door, and placed his ear to the stem. Feliciano looked up from where he was starting to boil water on the stove.

"I don't think you're supposed to be doing that, Lovino."

"Shut up," snapped Lovino, before adding quickly, "…and don't tell Grandpa."

Lovino could not hear much of the conversation, especially with Feliciano banging the pots and plates behind him. But a few phrases and sentences filtered through the amplifying chamber of the glass: something about an Italian alliance with Germany, about a fascist occupation of Czechoslovakia, about rumours of war, about a place called Guernica. Lovino was captivated. He had heard rumours around the village lately, but nothing like this. Nothing that sounded this serious… this important. Lovino listened to Antonio's lilting Spanish accent with a growing fascination, until he was no longer sure if it was what Antonio was saying that held him enthralled or the deep, intense, yet somehow still cheerful way the man spoke the words. Grandpa Roma's voice suddenly rose in volume and Lovino heard the words perfectly through the door.

"Tell me why do you did not just become a soldier, Antonio. Could you not accomplish something important using your skills in the military?"

"Sometimes soldiers do great things. And I, of all people, respect the desire to do duty for your country. But I have seen what the military can do. I have seen the consequences of blindly following orders. Soldiers kill innocent people, Roma. And I would die before I do that."

Lovino's pulse pounded between his ear and the glass. He felt slightly out of breath. Every word Antonio said was spoken with an edge of passion - it was like nothing Lovino had ever heard.

"I think I can trust you, Spaniard." Roma sounded satisfied.

"Lovino, do you think I need to add more…"

Lovino waved a hand at Feliciano frantically. "Ssh, shut up!"

"And I you, Roma. I will give you any and all information I am able to acquire. Let us hope, however, that this German incursion is stopped before it gets too far."

Lovino tried to breathe through the dozens of emotions flowing through him. He could not be sure of exactly what his grandfather and Antonio had been talking about, but it sounded like exactly what he had hoped for. Something different, something new, something that might finally change this stale, everyday existence where nothing ever happened and where he felt invisible and ignored. Hearing Roma and Antonio begin their goodbyes, Lovino pulled the wine glass from the door and, almost unthinkingly, opened the door a fraction to peek through. Grandpa Roma had his back to the kitchen, rifling through a pile of papers on the table. Antonio, however, stood facing Lovino, and their eyes met immediately. Lovino froze when Antonio smiled at him broadly, his light eyes sparkling. Then he winked. Lovino's eyes widened. He abruptly slammed the door shut and leant against it, his heart beating fast in his chest. His breathing came so fast he was nearly panting.

Feliciano looked up over the boiling pot and smiled. True to form, he did not seem to have noticed anything unusual. "Grandpa's new friend is really nice, don't you think?"

"No," said Lovino, frantically trying to convince himself that his pounding heart and burning cheeks were a result of the conversation he had overheard, and not that stunning smile and startling wink. "No, I don't think so at all. Oh honestly, Feliciano, you've cooked far too much pasta once again…" Lovino went to help Feliciano with the dinner, and tried to forget Antonio's brilliant green eyes.

* * *

Lovino slowly grew used to Antonio's visits over the next few weeks. To listening through doors for some idea of what was going on, to that frustrating little jump he felt in his chest whenever he heard that Antonio was visiting, to that swelling feeling of excitement he felt every time he overheard Antonio and Roma speak of escalating rumours of war. But at the same time, Lovino never quite grew used to Antonio's constant cheerful smile, to his messy brown hair and bright green eyes, to his ready laugh and joyful presence and the way he always ruffled Feliciano's hair and called him '_cute_.' Lovino told himself he didn't care. He almost believed it. But then Antonio would smile at him, or glance at him in passing, and Lovino would scowl and look away, the whole time feeling unsure and confused and angry that he could not quite understand the reason he was feeling this way.

It all became quite usual and everyday until the morning everything finally struck him in understanding. Lovino sat on the low garden wall, the bright sun beating down relentlessly, thinking through the conversation he had just overheard. Antonio had a way of speaking that made everything sound important, but his words earlier as he spoke with Grandpa Roma had sounded graver than usual.

_"You are still committed to this, Roma? I will do everything I can to help you. But you will be a resistance. You will be fighting against the government of your own country."_

_"A government that does not care for the freedom of its people. Yes, I am committed."_

_"And you know what you will be risking?"_

_"I know all too well what I am risking. But if anything is worth that risk, this is."_

Lovino had left before hearing the end of the conversation, feeling like he needed air. The little garden was dappled with bright sunlight and shadow from the tall trees that surrounded the wall, the air stiflingly hot with the promise of a long summer. Lovino kicked his feet absently and stared unseeing at the rows of rosemary before him. Those words resonated in his head… _"I know all too well what I am risking."_ His mind spun with a hundred thoughts. He had known Grandpa Roma and Antonio were planning something. But now he wondered just what exactly that was, and what it would mean. What would Grandpa be risking… what would he be doing… what exactly was the meaning of all this talk of war and Germany and invasion? Suddenly that familiar feeling of excitement carried an undercurrent of fear.

Lovino looked up at the sound of the back kitchen door opening, only to see Antonio stepping out into the garden. Lovino's heart leapt annoyingly into his throat. He shrank back carefully on the wall, but Antonio did not notice him. Instead he walked swiftly past the bright flowerbeds before leaning against the far wall by the back gate, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked slightly anxious, and quite exhausted. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and was just breathing the smoke deeply when Lovino jumped down and took a few steps in his direction. Antonio looked up sharply, then smiled. "Lovino."

Lovino stared at Antonio cautiously. He was never quite sure how to act around him; it was more confusing than it should be. Lovino folded his arms. "I've overheard you talking with Grandpa, you know."

Antonio looked politely curious. "Oh?"

"There is going to be a war, isn't there?"

Antonio's expression turned slightly uncertain. He took a draw on his cigarette and breathed the smoke out slowly. "Probably."

Lovino nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Well. I guess I'll just have to join the army then."

Antonio laughed softly, staring at Lovino with sparkling eyes. "The army?" He tilted his head slightly. "I just realised I've never asked… how old are you, Lovino?"

Lovino thought about how to answer. He thought briefly about lying. Then he realised it probably did not matter much. "Fifteen," he said huffily.

Antonio's eyebrows shot up and he looked away quickly. "Fifteen," he muttered. He shook his head, took another long draw on his cigarette, and stared at the sky for few moments. "You won't be able to join for a while then. And when you are old enough, do you even know what you will be fighting for?"

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows. What a strange question… "For Italy, of course."

"Hmm." Antonio often thought for a long time before speaking. Lovino wondered if it was because of the difference in language. He refused to admit that it fascinated him. Because it didn't, damn it. Antonio breathed out another lungful of smoke. "Sometimes, joining the army is not the best way to serve your country. Sometimes, to do what is right, you have to stand up and fight for what everyone else thinks is wrong."

Lovino swallowed heavily. Antonio had said something like that earlier_. You will be fighting against the government of your own country..._ "I don't know what you mean."

"You will." Antonio flicked his ash on the ground and stared at it. "War is not exciting, Lovino. I sincerely hope you do not make the mistake of thinking so before you actually see it."

Lovino narrowed his eyes as he studied Antonio, thinking through everything he had overheard in the last few weeks. About civil war in Spain and fascism and that place Antonio kept mentioning, that place called Guernica… "What are you really doing here?"

Antonio thought for a moment again. "I think I am trying to fight for what is right."

"You think?"

"I hope. Unfortunately, I've never been very good at separating right from wrong. I think I've always just felt too much to truly know the difference. But this… yes, I'm sure I'm right in this. I have to be."

Lovino tried unsuccessfully to suppress the swelling in his chest. So he tried angrily to ignore it. "I didn't ask for your life story, bastard."

Antonio looked vaguely amused. "No. Forgive me, Lovino." He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, his eyes still on the ground. A heavy silence fell. Lovino was not sure if he should leave. For some reason he did not dwell on, he did not want to. He fidgeted with his hands behind his back for a moment. Antonio did not continue, so Lovino broke the silence.

"Can I have a cigarette?"

Antonio laughed. "No."

"Screw you, bastard!"

Antonio dropped the cigarette and stood on it. Then he finally looked up, his eyes meeting Lovino's, burning into them. Lovino felt his next angry words die on his lips. The hot stillness of the day seemed to close in on him. He could not move, could not breathe, could not tear his gaze from those brilliant green eyes staring into his. Antonio took a step closer then paused, shook his head, and laughed softly to himself. "Fifteen," he muttered, before turning and walking out the back gate. Lovino watched him go, his heart pounding in his ears, unsure whether to feel relieved.

* * *

Only a few days later, Lovino stood at the kitchen door, listening as Antonio explained to Roma that he was going away for a few months. Lovino was surprised, annoyed and infuriated by how upset and disappointed that made him. This was stupid. He shouldn't care, he didn't care, why the hell would he care…

"Things are moving fast, Roma. Faster than expected. Of course I will be back regularly, but from here it is up to you. You will be the face of this. I will simply be your informant."

Roma laughed raucously. "Sometimes you sound so much older than your years. Do not forget that you are talking to the youngest Italian officer to ever rise past the rank of Captain. I am quite capable of inspiring a group to victory."

Antonio's voice became cheerful and lighthearted once again. "Like any student of the Great War, I am well aware of your military accomplishments. _Maggiore_ Vargas, hero of the Isonzo campaign. Why else do you think I am so eager to work with you?"

"All right, stop with the flattery, kid." But Lovino could hear the delight in Roma's voice. Grandpa always loved when people spoke of his celebrated military history. "You do your job, and I'll do mine."

The rest of the conversation became too soft to hear properly. When the room finally fell silent, Lovino pressed his ear as close to the door as possible. Had they left? Was their meeting over? He tried listening for the sound of footsteps, but heard nothing, until suddenly the door opened inward. Lovino cried out in surprise and fell forward, right into Antonio's steadying arms.

"Hello, Lovino!"

"Bu... wha... get off me, bastard!" Lovino's face burned and he frantically pulled himself upright, pushing Antonio away and backing up until he hit the wall behind him.

"Why do I always find you listening in doorways?" Antonio smiled at Lovino amusedly.

"It's my house," said Lovino indignantly. "And I wasn't listening, I was..." Lovino had no idea what to say. "I was... oh, go away."

Antonio smirked and nodded. "Very well." He started to walk past, but as he did, Lovino felt his hand shoot out and grasp Antonio's shirt. He was sure he hadn't meant to do that. Antonio looked down, almost as surprised as Lovino himself. Lovino's eyes darted nervously.

"You're leaving."

Antonio smirked again. "You weren't listening?"

Lovino glared at him. "It's the only way I ever find things out around here. No one tells me anything otherwise."

"Yes, Lovino, I am leaving for a while. Please don't worry, though. I will return soon enough. I will be returning quite frequently."

"I'm not worried!" Lovino spat indignantly.

"Of course not." Antonio was too close. Lovino tried to ignoring the fluttering in his stomach, tried to ignore the way his breath came faster, because he didn't care, Antonio was not making him feel like this, oh God he smelt so good, NO! "Well," continued Antonio, "I suppose this is it until..."

"Don't waste your goodbyes on me, bastard, go find my _cute_ brother and say farewell to _him_ instead." Lovino immediately winced at his words. Crap, damn it, why did he say that? That hadn't come out as sulkily as it sounded, surely...

Antonio just let out a breath of laughter. "Oh, Lovino." Antonio took a step towards him and Lovino pressed himself even closer to the wall. Then Antonio leant over and rested his hand slowly, lightly, against Lovino's side. Lovino's eyes widened. His heartbeat increased, his palms started to sweat, and the back of his neck burned with a heat that quickly spread through his entire body. Then he felt Antonio's breath hot against his ear. "Feliciano is cute, Lovi. But you are beautiful."

Lovino was stunned. _Beautiful_. Antonio had called him beautiful. Not cute, not adorable, not sweet; something more than any of that. Antonio had said it to him, to him alone; whispered it in his ear when no one else could hear, words meant only for Lovino. This was too much. Lovino could think of only one way to deal with these wild, confusing, unfamiliar feelings racing through him. He squared his shoulders, drew back his fist, and punched Antonio square in the jaw. "You don't call boys beautiful, you creep!"

Lovino turned and stormed from the room, pretending he did not hear Antonio laughing behind him.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

_ Autumn, 1939_   
_A village in Italy _

* * *

"Don't get too far ahead, Feliciano!" called Grandpa Roma. It was a sunny autumn morning, and the village bustled with activity as Lovino and Grandpa Roma walked leisurely along the cobblestone streets. In the last few months, the everyday, unchanging village existence Lovino had lived in his entire life had turned upside down. Already there was not enough produce at the market. People whispered on street corners, dark murmurings and rumours and half broken conversations. Grandpa Roma spent all his time at the old _ Cantina Verde _talking with people instead of in the fields. But today, with the sun shining and the streets crowded, it almost seemed like a normal day in the village once again. It was a nice change. People stopped frequently to say good morning to Roma or to give a cheerful greeting to Feliciano, though Lovino was not surprised that no one spared a moment for him. The three of them were headed to the cantina, and as usual Feliciano kept getting excited over nothing, skipping and running ahead. 

"I can't help it that you're walking so slow!" Feliciano called back. "Hurry up, we have to stop at the fountain, Lovino and I always stop at the fountain when we come to town, I even have a coin and I already know what I'm going to wish for and oh, hello Antonio!" 

Lovino nearly tripped over. His pulse quickened when he caught sight of Antonio walking through the crowd and waving cheerfully. "Good morning, Feli! Roma." Antonio's smile brightened. "Lovino." Lovino quickly averted his eyes. 

Antonio had come and gone frequently from the village in the last months, but these last few days were the longest he had stayed since he had first dropped into their lives back in spring. 

Lovino had spent the days trying unsuccessfully to ignore both Antonio and the way he made him feel. Although Antonio had not said anything to make Lovino punch him again, he still managed to make Lovino's heart pound uncomfortably and cause an unwanted and embarrassing blush to spread from his neck. Especially when he thought he caught Antonio staring at him... he was never quite sure, however, since the Spaniard always looked away immediately. Antonio was so friendly, so happy, so different to everyone else who always ignored Lovino in favour of his little brother. Even the way Antonio said Lovino's name was different. Lovino was not sure how to understand it – a grown man should not make him feel like this. It was frustrating, and confusing, and just a little scary... but also, secretly, strangely new and exciting. 

Roma stopped briefly and shook Antonio's hand affectionately in greeting. "Antonio! Are you just heading to the cantina now? Your rooms are directly opposite, aren't they?" 

"They are, but it is such a fine morning I had to take a walk. If you are headed that way now, I'll join you." They continued walking with Antonio beside them; Lovino ignoring him, Feliciano jumping excitedly around him. 

"Antonio, will you come to the fountain with us? Lovino and I are going to throw in coins the way Grandpa says they do in Rome and make wishes and..." 

"_ You're _going to, Feliciano, I don't do that sort of thing," said Lovino quickly. 

Feliciano turned and looked at him strangely. "Yes you do." 

Lovino tried to stop his cheeks from burning. "I used to, when I was a kid!" 

"But you did it last week, remember, you wished for a guitar like you always... ow! Why did you kick me, Lovino?" 

Antonio laughed loudly. "That sounds like fun, Feliciano! I think I'll throw a coin in myself!" 

"What will you wish for?" asked Feliciano eagerly. 

"Ah, but if you tell anyone what you wish for, it won't come true." Antonio winked at Lovino. Lovino scowled back. 

Feliciano's face fell. "Really? But I always tell Lovino what I wish for, and my wishes always come true..." 

"That's because you wish for pasta," said Lovino, slightly exasperated. "Every single time you wish for pasta, and then we go home and have pasta, and you act all surprised that your wish came true." 

"But I can never think of anything else I want!" 

Lovino rolled his eyes at Grandpa Roma, who just laughed affectionately. Offered his choice of anything in the entire world, Feliciano would naturally choose a bowl of pasta. 

"Don't listen to your brother, Feliciano," said Roma merrily. "There are worse things you could..." 

The street grew suddenly quiet, Roma trailing off as the heavy, even sound of marching approached. Lovino did not see who it was before Grandpa Roma stepped in front of him and used his arm to push Lovino back off the street. Beside them Antonio did the same to Feliciano. Everyone on the road shrunk back as the marching footsteps grew closer. Lovino peered around Roma's shoulder as rows of black-garbed military marched down the street, their weapons conspicuously on display, the sound of their boots echoing sinisterly off the silent buildings and the sweep of their eyes seeming to drown out the sun. Lovino trembled slightly in spite of himself, watching them march past with a strange mixture of anger and fear and uncertainty. Beside him Feliciano had his eyes squeezed shut as he clung, shaking, to the back of Antonio's shirt. When the troops finally reached the end of the street and turned into the town square, Lovino let out a deep breath and looked from Grandpa Roma to Antonio. Their faces were blank. 

"Who are they?" asked Feliciano softly, his voice trembling. 

"_ Fasci di Combattimento _," said Antonio flatly. "Blackshirts." 

"No one," said Roma immediately. "Lovino, take Feliciano to the cantina. Go the back way." 

"Why?" asked Lovino angrily. "Where are you going?" 

"Lovino," said Roma warningly. "Take Feliciano to the cantina. We will not be far behind." 

"They're the government forces, aren't they?" asked Lovino insistently, ignoring Roma's command as long as he could. Lovino knew that Grandpa Roma had always been opposed to the fascist government. But these things never seemed of much importance in their little corner of Italy, where talk of the government and its movements was practically nonexistent. Or had been, until recently. "They're the fascist ones, the ones that agree with Germ..." 

"LOVINO!" Lovino jumped at Roma's shout, and Feliciano actually gasped. Roma closed his eyes, smoothed his forehead, then forced his lips into a smile. He leant forward slightly and spoke softly. "You are right, Lovino, of course. But we don't speak of these things in the street. Now you will look after your brother, won't you?" 

Lovino narrowed his eyes. That was playing dirty... of course Lovino would look after Feliciano. Looking sideways at his brother, Lovino could see that he was terrified. He sighed wearily to himself and took Feliciano's hand. Feliciano clung to it immediately. "Fine. We'll be at the cantina." 

"Good boy," said Roma. Lovino glanced at Antonio quickly, embarrassed, but barely registered the man's expression before turning away. 

"Come on, Feliciano, let's go have some of that lemonade you like." 

Feliciano followed eagerly. Lovino walked away reluctantly, but not before he heard Roma's words behind him. "They are here, finally. That must mean they have a list of citizens." 

"Don't worry, Roma." Antonio's words voice sent an unfamiliar thrill down Lovino's spine. "I'll get you that list." 

* * *

Lovino sat alone and ignored at the cantina, carelessly swinging his feet from a table and crossing his arms sullenly. Feliciano sat at a table in the corner, so engrossed in the picture he was drawing he had barely looked up for an hour. Lovino stared at the closed door to the next room, silently fuming as Grandpa Roma and Antonio carried on a private conversation that Lovino was, once again, denied from hearing. He was sick of never being told anything, of being treated like a child. Grandpa Roma had already explained they were a resistance, but Lovino did not even know what that meant except that he was never allowed to speak of it and never allowed to know exactly what was going on. But he wanted to know. He wanted to know what this 'information' Antonio always brought with him was. He wanted to know where Antonio went when he disappeared for weeks at a time. But more than anything, Lovino burned with curiosity to know what Grandpa Roma and Antonio and the rest of the Resistenza actually did when they went on these 'missions' that seemed so important, missions they spent days planning with maps and weapons and secrecy. 

Lovino glanced from Feliciano to the closed door. Surely his brother would not notice if he went and listened... Lovino's curiosity quickly got the better of him. Lovino was quite used to this by now, but if no one ever told him anything, what other choice did he have? He jumped off the table and hurried over to the door to catch what sounded like the end of the conversation. 

"Get in and get out, Antonio. You have the false information for them?" 

"I have everything. Don't worry, Roma. I've dealt with this man before, it will take me only minutes to get that list." 

"Good. Because minutes is all you have. There is a car for you at the end of the street. The one marked with red." 

Lovino did not stop to think. If he did, he might start to reason with himself. He might force himself to stop and analyse the situation. He might realise that this was an incredibly stupid thing to do. But he refused to do any of that. He just ran from the cantina, ran to the end of the street, and stopped when he saw a vehicle parked alone with a small red cloth hanging from the window. It was more a truck than a car, the tray at the back completely smothered by a dark canvas covering. His heart pounding, his skin burning, but his mind still refusing to think, Lovino rushed over and threw the heavy material back. Then, determined not to think about what he was doing, he climbed into the back of the truck and threw the covering back over himself. 

Darkness engulfed him and a strong, unpleasant metallic smell overpowered his senses. Lovino fought to control his rapid heartbeat and his harsh, heavy breathing. Fought to remain calm. He was going to see what was going on. He was going to be involved in this. He was going to force them all to finally tell him exactly what a resistance actually did. But with only blackness before his eyes, and everything silent but for the blood pulsing in his ears, Lovino's mind finally started to turn. What the hell had he done? What was he doing? Why the hell was he sitting here in the back of this truck about to go God knows where for God knows what reason? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all... 

A deep guttural roar tore through the back of the truck, the vehicle shaking as the engine blasted to life. Fear rose in Lovino's throat. He clawed urgently at the covering, but it was too late. The truck took off and Lovino could do nothing but sit in the dark, willing his frantic heart to slow down, trying to stop himself thinking again. Thankfully the drive was not far, though Lovino was sure it felt longer than it actually was. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or terrified when the truck finally stopped and the engine fell quiet. And when he heard Antonio's voice only right beside him, Lovino didn't know if he wanted to jump out of the truck and cling to him desperately or just jump out of the truck and run the hell away. He decided his best bet was just to stay where he was until this whole business was over. No one would ever even know he was here... 

"Are all the civilians out of the building?" came Antonio's voice. Lovino found it oddly reassuring, then felt immediately angry that he did. 

"All out," replied an unfamiliar voice. "Only your two blackshirts in there. You've got twenty minutes, Carriedo. Twenty minutes and I'll have this car blown sky high." 

Lovino was sure he felt his heart stop in his chest. He couldn't breathe. So much for staying where he was... 

"I'll have what I need by then," said Antonio. 

"Good," replied the stranger's voice. "I won't be in sight. So do not be late, understand?" 

"Right." Lovino waited as long as he dared, his heart pounding, sweat rising at the edges of his hair. Finally, knowing he could not stay in the truck, and hoping the stranger had gone, Lovino knocked frantically against the wall beside him. Only a second later the cover flew away above him, he blinked in the sudden sunlight, and Antonio swore loudly. "_ Mierda! _" 

"Please don't blow me up," Lovino whispered. 

"What the... _ ay Dios mio _... damn it, Lovino, you have to get out of this car." Antonio grabbed Lovino by the arm and helped him scramble out of the truck. His expression was completely shocked. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

His feet stumbling to the ground, Lovino scowled angrily and prepared a vicious verbal attack. "I just wanted to see what you were doing, no one tells me anything, I..." 

"Listen to me." Lovino fell quiet at the chilling, warning tone in Antonio's voice. He had never heard it before. "I don't know _ what _you're thinking, but you have to do what I say now, understand?" 

Lovino mustered just enough irritation through his alarm to sound indignant. "Who the hell do you think..." 

"Lovino, I am deadly serious." And then Lovino fell silent again. Antonio had never spoken like this before. He was like a different person. "Keep quiet," Antonio continued. "Do not say a word. Stay by my side. And promise me, that you will do everything I say, no questions." 

"I..." 

"Promise me." Antonio's eyes were hard, his voice commanding. Lovino gulped back another protest. 

"I promise." Lovino was almost surprised at his words, but he did not seem to have an option to do or say otherwise. 

Someone appeared at the door of the building beside them and yelled out angrily. "Carriedo, are you joining us or what?" Lovino realised with a shock that he was a blackshirt, one of the fascist government forces that had only just arrived in this part of Italy. The blackshirt looked strangely at Lovino before disappearing into the building, and it finally sunk in just what a stupid, stupid thing Lovino had done. Terror clouded his mind and he stood still, refusing to move even when Antonio took his hand and pulled. 

"You'll be all right, Lovino. I won't let anything happen to you." Antonio squeezed his hand and for a moment that cheerful smile was back in place, that gleam in his eyes. Lovino was slightly comforted to see it, but he still pulled back against Antonio's hold. 

"I'll... I'll just wait outside..." 

Antonio looked almost sorry. "That's too suspicious. Just keep your promise and you'll be fine." 

"Oh my God." Lovino crossed himself, an old nervous habit, and Antonio squeezed his hand again. 

The room looked like an abandoned pub. A battered looking bar ran along the side wall and a few broken tables and knocked over chairs littered the floor. The blackshirt who had called out from the door leant over a table covered with papers, and another sat back in a chair, eyeing them warily. Lovino clung to Antonio's hand, beyond worrying what the blackshirts or even he himself thought, until Antonio released him and stared at him coolly. His entire demeanour changed in an instant. "Go sit at the bar, boy." 

Lovino's eyes widened for the briefest moment, surprised and infuriated, before he remembered his promise. He headed to the barstool closest to the door, praying this would all be over quickly. 

"Carriedo, haven't seen you in a while." The standing blackshirt nodded at Antonio, who smiled carefully back. Lovino got the feeling this was the superior officer. 

"You know how things are escalating, my friend. I find my time increasingly pressed these days - so I need to make this quick. Surprising to see you down this way, however." 

The officer rolled his eyes. "It's a damned insult, being posted here to the arsehole of Italy. Arresting pathetic would-be resistance members. It's a joke." 

Antonio laughed, but it wasn't the carefree, joyful laugh that Lovino knew. It was cold, and cruel, and it scared him. "That's actually why I'm here, as I am sure you know. My superiors require that list of yours. We need to destroy this fledgling Resistenza before things go too far." 

The sitting blackshirt scoffed and folded his arms before him. "And just why - I would like to know, and have yet to be informed - should we give this important information over to you? It is our job to crush this resistance, too." 

Antonio spread his hands placatingly and grinned. It was as cold and joyless as his laugh. "My friend. We are all on the same side here. You work for the greater good, I work for the greater good. And as my friend here can attest," Antonio nodded towards the officer, "My superiors are always good in rewarding those who help us achieve our aims. Besides, I do not expect you to give me this for nothing." Antonio took a thick wad of paper from inside his shirt, walked over to the men, and tossed it onto the mass of papers that already littered the table. "I believe this information will garner you quite enough favour and respect in the eyes of your superiors, even if you are not the ones to dispose of this resistance." The two men immediately reached for the papers and started rifling through them. 

Lovino found himself transfixed as he watched. This was not the Antonio he knew, the one with the ready laugh and sparkling eyes and overwhelming generosity, who always brought presents and silly stories and played along with Feliciano's stupid games. But then, Lovino hadn't known Antonio for long at all. Was it just that he was only now seeing the true character of the man? He was torn between an infuriating fear, and a strange, unfamiliar sort of fascinated curiosity. All his thoughts were abruptly broken off, however, when the sitting blackshirt fixed him with a dark, curious glare. "Who is this boy of yours, Carriedo?" 

Lovino's pulse thrummed so fast he felt dizzy; his neck burned with a sickening heat. He tried desperately to push down his rising panic. Antonio had said he wouldn't let anything happen to him. Lovino had no choice but to trust him. 

"He's no one," said Antonio quickly, smiling in that cruel, fake way. 

"No one?" The blackshirt looked suspicious. "No one, who is just sitting here listening to us talk about top secret matters?" 

Antonio looked from the blackshirt to Lovino. Lovino gazed back, eyes wide, this unreal fear refusing to subside. Antonio's eyes betrayed no hint of emotion. "Just something I picked up in the neighbouring village," he said smoothly, staring back at the blackshirt. "Now can we make this quick? I'm not paying this kid any more than I have to." 

Both blackshirts laughed knowingly, their stares growing sneering and increasingly unpleasant. Lovino's shoulders stiffened, the burn in his neck spreading repulsively. He shrunk back into the bar behind him, regretting the stupid impulse that had led him here, wishing madly that he could somehow go back and get out of this. He tried to shout at Antonio without words. _ Get me out of here, you bastard... stop acting like this... oh God, make them stop looking at me like that... _

"Well, now we know why you're in such a damned hurry!" said the blackshirt, standing and kicking his chair behind him, his savage eyes fixed on Lovino. Lovino bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. 

"Exactly. So let's get this over with, shall we. That list?" Antonio reached for the papers in the officer's hand, but the man swiftly pulled them back and looked pointedly at Lovino. His smile sent shudders down Lovino's spine, that cold voice creeping under his skin. 

"I don't think the information you've given us is a fair price for this list. Perhaps there is something else you can trade instead." 

Antonio's shoulders stiffened. Lovino noticed his gaze drop subtly, almost imperceptibly, to take in the weapons by the men's sides. Lovino wondered madly if Antonio was armed. His momentary slip only lasted a second, and Antonio looked up and smiled once again. "I don't see why not. How about you meet me at the local inn and we can continue this exchange? I am on my way there as soon as we conclude our business." 

"Why go as far as that?" asked the officer, taking a threatening step forward. "Here is as good a place as any. There are rooms upstairs." Lovino's entire body constricted. He shrunk back as far as he could, the bar pressing uncomfortably into his back. 

Antonio's fists clenched then relaxed. The other blackshirt also took a step forward. Lovino did not understand what was going on, did not want to understand. Again, all he could do was trust in Antonio. Antonio broke the tension by clapping the superior officer on the back and laughing loudly. "Well, we are all friends, aren't we? Just try not to take too long." Lovino told himself Antonio was playing a part. This wasn't really him... Antonio did not mean this... 

"Ah, it shouldn't, he's pretty enough. Besides, they all look the same from behind." The officer's eyes shot through Lovino from across the room. 

"He's young too, that always helps," added the other blackshirt. Their menacing leers and laughter was making Lovino sick, making his skin crawl. Antonio laughed along with them, slipped an arm over the officer's shoulder; and then, quickly and easily, he had the list in his hand. He immediately pushed it into his pocket and backed away. 

"I'm glad we could come to an agreement. And please, I even insist you go first." Lovino couldn't breathe. He couldn't handle this... he was going to panic, going to scream, going to run... "But first," continued Antonio, "It's freezing in here. Isn't it freezing in here? Hey, kid." Antonio was looking at him, speaking to him. Lovino stared at him pleadingly, but Antonio's face was blank. "Run outside and grab my jacket from the car." 

Lovino did not think twice. He jumped up and ran. Once out in the cool, open air he stopped, relief flooding him to be out of that awful, stifling room, away from those vile stares and revolting laughs. But now he had no idea what to do. Run? Wait? Lovino stared helplessly around the deserted street; angry, frustrated tears starting to rise. He silently begged Antonio to hurry. His breathing came too fast, his hands shaking, his mind still too close to panicking... Lovino almost sobbed with relief when Antonio walked swiftly out the door, grabbed his hand, and practically dragged him down the street. 

"Keep walking, do not stop." Antonio's face was fixed in a cold, rigid expression Lovino had never seen before, his steely eyes fixed on the distance, his mouth drawn almost into a snarl. They almost ran as they rushed away from the building. 

"What just happened?" asked Lovino, cold fear still running through his veins. "What did you do?" 

"Just keep walking." 

"What's going on? What did they want?" 

"It's nothing, Lovino." But Lovino had never seen the carefree, cheerful Spaniard look so furious. 

"But what..." Suddenly a massive explosion blasted from behind, the deafening noise tearing down the empty street. The air turned briefly hot and heavy. Lovino's body jolted in shock. He looked over his shoulder to see the car in pieces and the building burning, its front wall torn away. Lovino's legs went weak; he stumbled, but Antonio immediately drew him up and continued to pull him down the street. "Oh my God," gasped Lovino breathlessly. "Oh my God..." 

An empty car waited just around the corner. Antonio opened the passenger door, helping Lovino into the vehicle before climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off. Lovino clutched the armrest, his mind frozen in shock, his whole body shaking. Nothing was real, nothing could be real, this was all too fast, too surreal, too much... 

"You're okay, Lovino. Just breathe. You're safe, and you're with me, and everything's fine now." 

Lovino tried to do as Antonio said, tried to breathe, but his chest was too tight and his throat too dry. "Those men... they were still in there..." 

"Yes." 

"You said... you said you could never kill anyone..." 

"I said I could never kill an innocent person. Those men were not innocent, Lovino. It is hard, I know, and difficult to understand. But through their deaths we saved a lot of people today." Antonio's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes still too cold and too hard. Lovino did not like it at all. He wanted Antonio to smile, to laugh, to say something silly and idiotic in his cheerful Spanish accent. This side of Antonio terrified him. But at the same time, Lovino found his curiosity somewhat abated. This was what the Resistenza, what Antonio, actually did... this was what Lovino had wanted to know. Lovino forced himself to breathe evenly, to calm down. 

"They... they thought you were working for them," said Lovino softly. 

"A lot of people think I am working for them." 

"What is on that paper you asked for?" 

"It is a list of local villagers under suspicion from the government." 

Lovino swallowed a wave of nausea, then forced himself to ask the question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. "What did they... those men... they said they wanted something in exchange..." 

Antonio smashed his foot on the accelerator. Lovino gripped the side of the seat as the car shot forward. "That was nothing, Lovino. Don't think anymore about that." 

Lovino forced himself to stay quiet the rest of the short drive. Antonio parked the car in the same spot the truck had left from earlier. Lovino followed him down the narrow street and up the stairs opposite the cantina to his rented apartment. "I just have to put these papers away," said Antonio quickly. "Then I'll take you home, okay? You're all right, Lovino, it's okay now." 

Everything was going so fast, and Lovino was so confused, feeling like a whirlwind was rushing through his head. Antonio was still not himself. The room spun as Antonio led Lovino swiftly through the front door of his shabby rented rooms, talking nonstop the whole way, repeating himself; looking strangely like he was fighting with himself. "I just need to put these papers in the safe... It will only take me a moment, then I'll walk you home straight away... It's okay now, Lovino... Just let me put these away, and we'll leave immediately..." Antonio's accent grew heavier as he spoke, and Lovino fought to understand what he was saying, why he was speaking so frantically, why everything was whirling and fuzzy and why... 

The world finally stopped spinning when Antonio dropped the papers in a heap, turned, and pulled Lovino forcefully into his arms. Lovino froze, his arms at his side, his mind a hot muddled mess of confusion and shock. "Don't you ever... EVER... do anything like that again, do you understand me?" Antonio almost yelled the words. 

Lovino could not move. His mind was numb. He did not know if Antonio was angry or upset or had lost his mind completely. "I..." 

"My God, Lovino, that was... just don't..." Lovino felt Antonio's arms pressed firmly around his back, holding him, encircling him; felt his rising chest against his cheek and his warm breath against his hair. Antonio's voice was gentler when he spoke again. "Please don't ever do that again." 

Lovino had no idea what to do. So he very slowly, hesitantly, raised his hands and rested them against Antonio's arms. Because that awful experience was over, and despite everything, Lovino felt safe like this. "All right," he replied softly. But Antonio did not move. The room was so quiet, so still, silent but for the sound of their rapid breathing in the heavy air. The entire horrific afternoon melted away until there was nothing but this. A knot twisted in Lovino's stomach; a shiver fluttered in his throat. He did not know if he could pull away from Antonio's strong arms, and he did not know if he wanted to. So he just clutched them tighter, turned his head and felt Antonio's lips and breath so close above him. His pulse raced so fast he couldn't breathe through it, his skin burned like it was the middle of summer, and he felt Antonio's heart beating against his ear almost as fast as his own. 

Lovino started to feel dizzy, unsure, just as Antonio's arms tightened around him. And then their bodies were pressed so close together, melded from their chests to their hips. Antonio said his name and it sounded like worship, so Lovino rocked closer, until he said it again and it sounded like penitence. The tight, hot spiral in Lovino's chest shot through his spine and coiled in his base of his gut, spreading lower, until he was almost panting from the unfamiliar but rapturous sensations flooding his body. And Antonio's lips were so close and his breath so warm; his arms so firm and his smell so overpowering... Lovino couldn't move, couldn't think, could only press against him, feeling that hot coil tighten, spiralling, moving towards something... Lovino gasped loudly, whispered softly... "_ Oh _..." 

"Damn it, no, _ BASTA_!" Lovino staggered backwards as Antonio suddenly pushed him away forcefully. It took all his strength and balance to keep from tumbling to the floor. When he came back to himself, the room was cold, dark, silent. Antonio stood at the other end of the room, his hands on his head, his back to Lovino. A confused shame spread slowly from Lovino's still fuzzy brain, until he was entirely engulfed by a burning, nauseating humiliation. Antonio had pushed him away. Lovino had got carried away, had misinterpreted. Antonio must be disgusted, appalled. 

Lovino could hear his breathing from across the room. "You need to go, Lovino." Antonio's voice was shaking. "Immediately. You need to leave right now." 

Lovino covered his mouth and staggered backwards, mortified. "I... I'm sorr..." Lovino choked on the word, blinking his rising tears away in silent anger. His embarrassment shifted abruptly to boiling rage. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. "You bastard, how dare you!" How dare Antonio push him away like that? How dare he make Lovino feel like this? How dare he change completely into this person Lovino barely recognised? Lovino's fury intensified when Antonio did not turn. He yelled as loud as he dared, loud enough to try and drown the ugly, sickening humiliation that burned his skin, that made him want to run and hide forever. "I hate you! Get the hell out of my village, get the hell out of my life! I never, ever want to see you again! Do you understand? I hate you, you complete bastard!" 

Lovino ran out of the room. He refused to acknowledge the tears in his eyes, the anguish in his chest. He focused only on his anger. He raced down the road, out of the village, and tried to convince himself that wasn't upset; he wasn't disappointed; he wasn't completely and utterly crushed. No, he was just mad, furious, wild with hatred. Lovino hated Antonio Carriedo. He had to. Because it was too painful to think what it meant if he didn't. 

. Lovino did not see Antonio for a week. He deliberately stayed away from the cantina, and Antonio did not come to the farmhouse. Lovino told himself he was glad. But for days all he saw when he closed his eyes was those sickening looks on the blackshirt's faces, that burning building, that destroyed car. All he heard in the silence was that massive fireball of an explosion; Antonio's breathing. All he felt, in dark early hours when he could not sleep and could not stop his mind from running, was Antonio's arms around him; his breath on his neck; that blissful feeling Lovino could not explain... and then Antonio's hands forcefully pushing him away. Grandpa Roma seemed to sense that something was wrong, even if he did not ask. But thankfully, Feliciano was as oblivious as ever. 

"Lovino, that's not fair, it's my turn!" Feliciano raced beside Lovino, trying to kick the soccer ball from under his feet. Lovino skillfully kept it away, almost laughing as he led the way out of the back garden and around the side of the house. 

"You have to get the ball yourself, how will you ever learn?" Lovino shouted back before kicking the ball ahead and chasing after it. The afternoon sun shone brightly on the well-trimmed grass and the autumn breeze was surprisingly cool as it gusted past, shaking the trees in the surrounding fields. Lovino was actually grateful to Feliciano for this stupid distraction. For the first time in a week, he was barely even thinking of Antonio at all. 

"But Lovino, you're faster than me, it's not fair!" 

"Nothing's fair, Feliciano. Now come on, I know you can run faster than that. Come steal this ball from me!" Keeping the ball before him, Lovino raced around the corner of the house, off the grass, onto the narrow lane; and almost ran straight into Antonio. Lovino choked back a shout of surprise. His heart leapt uncomfortably to his throat and he jerked to a sudden stop, the ball flying forgotten down the lane. Sweat rose to his brow and his shoulders stiffened as he took a wary step backward. 

"Good morning, Lovino!" Antonio's voice was as cheerful as ever, his simple, gleeful smile back in place. He looked like himself again, not that unfamiliar Antonio who had spoken so sinisterly to the blackshirts, who had acted so strangely as he led Lovino into his rented room. Lovino felt the familiar nervous twisting of his stomach, but this time, he felt anger as well. He just shook his head, stony faced, as Feliciano came racing out of the garden and ran up to Antonio, laughing breathlessly. 

"Antonio! Did you bring me a present? What did you bring me?" 

"Of course, Feli, don't I always? For you I have..." Antonio put down the large case he was carrying and pulled a small, circular drum from the bag over his shoulder. Feliciano blinked at it quizzically. "It's a tambourine!" Antonio explained with a smile. "You play it. Like this." Antonio shook the drum, causing the small metal disks to jingle cheerfully. Feliciano's face lit up and he grabbed the tambourine from Antonio's hand, immediately shaking it wildly and bursting into laughter. 

"Wow! This is fantastic!" 

Lovino closed his eyes briefly. Just what Feliciano needed: another way to make noise. Why did Antonio always have to be so damn oblivious? "Say thank you, Feliciano," said Lovino wearily. 

"Thank you, Antonio! I'm going to show Grandpa!" Feliciano raced into the house, shaking the tambourine the whole way, leaving Lovino standing alone with Antonio. Uncertain and uneasy, Lovino took a few steps backwards, then turned to follow Feliciano. 

"Lovino." 

Lovino paused, his heart pounding traitorously. "What." 

"I'm heading away for a while." Antonio said the words too easily. Lovino refused to think or feel anything. He refused, damn it. 

"Oh. Good. Grandpa is inside, I'm sure he will want to know." 

Once again, Lovino stood listening to a conversation he was not supposed to hear. He had tried to walk away, had told himself he wanted to walk away, but in the end he was helpless to stop himself pressing a wine glass to the kitchen door and trying to make out the words that drifted through. So far all he had managed to understand was that Antonio was going away. But then, that was to be expected... Antonio had been coming and going frequently for months. Why was this time any different? 

"I don't understand," said Roma. "Right when things are escalating..." 

"You're doing fine. The members you have here are loyal, skilled, and dedicated, and you're going to need them. I am afraid your quiet little corner of Italy has become far too strategic a position for any side to ignore." 

"Which is why we need an informant more than ever. I just don't see why you are leaving now, when we really need you." 

"I can better help the cause from a distance. The blackshirt's control is growing too great, and rumours of an occupation are already starting. Before things go too far, I need to establish an escape route to Spain." 

Roma paused for a moment. "Yes, of course, that's right. We will see you again, though." 

"Yes. But not for a while. It should take a year, at the very least. More likely two or three." 

The wine glass fell to the floor and shattered. Lovino did not hear anymore. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach, his blood running cold under burning skin. He raced out the back kitchen door, through the sunny garden, and onto the road. He headed down the road that led to the mountains, unheeding of the cold wind, those words echoing in his head... _ a year, at the very least. More likely two or three... _Lovino did not stop until he reached a broken fence just off the side of the road. He fell down against it, breathing heavily, his hands shaking and his chest feeling like it would collapse. Two or three years. It was a lifetime. Forever. It should not hurt so bad... he was angry at Antonio, Lovino told himself. Furious. He hated him. But it was useless. No matter how many times Lovino said it, he didn't. He didn't hate Antonio at all. And that just made him angrier. That he could feel this way about someone who just kept hurting him. 

Lovino sat against the fence, watching the blue sky darken, the brown leaves fall from nearby trees and dust the green grass below. So this was it. He would not see Antonio again, not for years. This was the end of the whole stupid, pointless chapter. He supposed, in a way, he was almost relieved. Despite how much it hurt. Lovino started to feel sleepy as he watched one fallen leaf dance in the wind. It twisted and turned, blown on a single gust of air, flying up and falling down again against the backdrop of the distant mountains. Lovino could feel his head begin to drop, his eyes start to close... 

"Lovino." 

Lovino jumped and gasped, then looked up sharply. Antonio stood looking down, placing his bag and case on the ground. Lovino shook the sleep from his head and pushed himself up, ignoring the way his heart did that stupid fluttering thing. "Go away!" 

"Please." Something about the way Antonio said it made Lovino pause. He stared warily for a moment, drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. 

"I thought you were leaving." 

"I am. I am taking the road through the mountains. My car is down this road. I did not think I would be lucky enough to find you on the way!" 

"Shut up." It was a stupid, childish response, but Lovino could not think of anything else to say. Antonio ignored it. 

"Well, I am glad I did." Antonio sat slowly against the fence, leaving a careful distance between them. "I haven't given you your present yet." 

Lovino eyed him warily. "Why would you have a present for me? You hate me. That's why you're leaving." 

Antonio looked slightly astonished, then he laughed and shook his head. "Oh, that is so very far from the truth." 

Lovino drew his eyebrows together. "So, you're not leaving because of me?" 

"No, I am. But not because I hate you." 

"That makes no sense, bastard." 

"Maybe you'll understand one day." 

Lovino fell silent. He very much doubted that. Antonio reached for the case beside him, opened it, and to Lovino's complete surprise, drew out a guitar. "This is for you." 

Lovino just stared, struck still with astonishment. He had wanted a guitar for years, but had given up all hope of acquiring one now that the war had started. He could not believe, after everything, that Antonio was handing one to him so easily. "Oh." Lovino touched the guitar, then looked up into Antonio's smiling face and dropped his hand. He gave Antonio a quizzical glance, not sure what to ask, how to ask. "Last week," Antonio explained, "in the village, Feliciano said that you threw a coin in the fountain and wished for a guitar." 

Lovino shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I only said that to make Feliciano stop pestering me." 

"Oh, so you don't want a guitar?" Antonio started to place it back in the case. Lovino unthinkingly reached out to stop him. 

"No, I do, I..." Antonio grinned triumphantly and Lovino felt his cheek burn red. Why did Antonio always do these stupid things? Lovino looked at the ground and mumbled, "I don't know how to play." 

"You'll learn. It's easy. Listen." Antonio held the guitar in position and strummed a few chords until a slow, lyrical melody started to flow from the strings. He smiled at Lovino. "This is a new song I heard recently. It made me think of you." Lovino did not have time to fully register that before Antonio started singing. Lovino could not understand the Spanish words, but Antonio's voice was wonderful; light and lilting and flowing so easily over the notes. Despite himself Lovino found himself enthralled by it, mesmerised, wrapped in the rich harmonies that drifted from the guitar and Antonio's lips. Lovino did not think he breathed the entire song, watching Antonio's fingers stroke across the strings and his lips form those beautiful words, until the last line which Lovino almost thought he understood... "_ Bésame mucho, love me forever and make all my dreams come true." _For a brief moment Lovino wondered if Antonio had sung the line in Italian; but no, he must have misheard. Lovino did not say anything, but he carefully took the guitar when Antonio handed it over. "When I see you again, you can play something for me!" 

Lovino ran his hand over the polished wood, his heart beating faster, his mind running wild with confused and conflicting emotions. "I'll probably just put it in my cupboard and never look at it again." 

Antonio shrugged cheerfully. "Do whatever you wish with it, it's yours!" 

But Antonio was supposed to be mad at Lovino. He wasn't supposed to turn up all cheerful and happy and give him a guitar and sing to him and confuse him even more and... "What did I do wrong?" Lovino winced as soon as the words were out. He shouldn't have said that. Damn it, he should _ not _have said that. 

Antonio shook his head, his expression suddenly serious. "You did nothing wrong..." 

Lovino should not have said it, and yet, he could not stop... "I know I shouldn't have hid in the car that day, I really didn't want to mess anything up, I..." 

"No, Lovino, listen. I have to apologise to you. I'm so sorry." Antonio started to reach out his hand, then quickly snatched it back and laughed shakily to himself. "Twenty-five years old and I still don't how to react properly, do I. This whole time, I've been so out of line. I never should have made you run home alone the other day, after that explosion, after what I..." Antonio sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. Lovino could not follow what Antonio was trying to say. "Lovino, you didn't do anything wrong. I did. That's why I'm leaving." 

"But you'll come back." Lovino tried to make it sound like he didn't care. He tried to convince himself he didn't care. 

"After I have established an escape route to Spain, and made some more contacts, yes, I will come back. It could be a few years. But this war will not be over anytime soon." 

"No." Lovino looked up at the darkening sky, feeling Antonio's eyes on him. They sat like that, silent but for the sound of the wind, until Antonio finally spoke again. 

"I have to leave. My car will be waiting." 

"All right." Lovino kept his eyes on the sky, his hands clutching the guitar. 

"I'll see you soon, Lovino. Stay safe. Don't do anything stupid. Promise me." 

Lovino finally looked over at Antonio, who smiled cheerfully again. Lovino furrowed his brow and suppressed that flutter in his stomach. "Why do you keep asking these stupid promises?" 

Antonio laughed as he stood and picked up his bag. He smiled down at Lovino, his brown hair waving in the wind, his bright eyes greener than the grass. "_ Adios_, _ mi corazón." _Then he turned and walked away. 

Lovino watched Antonio walk back onto the road, swinging his bag, whistling tunelessly as he went. Lovino watched him walk away, away to Spain, away to danger, away to God knows where. Away for years. Lovino watched him until he disappeared around a fork in the road. And he wondered why it hurt so damn much.


	3. Chapter 3

_ Summer, 1934 _

_ The French Countryside  _

* * *

_ " _ _ It's getting late. We should probably start heading back to town." Francis said the words  _ _ reluctantly.  _

_ Antonio held a sprig of lavender to his nose and inhaled deeply. The bright afternoon sun descended slowly in the darkening sky above him; the thick, soft green grass felt like a blanket beneath him.  _

_ "Here, have another drink first," said Gilbert, passing a bottle of wine to Francis over Antonio's head. The red liquid sparkled as a ray of sunlight filtered through the glass.  _

_ "Fine," said Francis, taking the bottle. "But we can't stay on this hill all night."  _

_ "Why not?" asked Antonio. "I feel like I could lie here forever."  _

_ Francis laughed. "I'm quite sure you could, you lazy bastard."  _

_ "I can't believe the week's almost over," said Gilbert. "How does it always go so damn fast?"  _

_ Antonio shook his head, without an answer to that question. For the last five years, since he had turned fifteen, the best times of Antonio's life had been these brief weeks during the year he managed to spend with his two best friends. Talking, laughing, arguing, flirting, drinking, sightseeing... if only life could always be like this.  _

_ "Next time, my place, yeah?" continued Gilbert. "Ludwig's been asking when he's gonna see you guys again."  _

_ "How is the little guy?" asked Antonio. "Did he like that model plane I sent for his birthday?"  _

_ "Not so little anymore. Twelve years old and the little shit's nearly bigger than me. But he loved the plane. It's hanging from his ceiling with all the others."  _

_ "All right," said Francis. "Let's make it December, shall we? There's nothing like Christmas in Germany."  _

_ "Yes," agreed Antonio. "Gingerbread houses and glowing Christmas trees and candles and snow..."  _

_ "Gluehwein and schnapps and beer..."  _

_ "Muscular men in lederhosen and busty barmaids in low cut dirndls... Ahh," Francis sighed dramatically. "Yes, this December I shall fall in love in Germany."  _

_ Antonio twisted his neck and squinted up at Francis. "You're not going to fall in love. You're going to sleep with people."  _

_ Francis peered down at him disdainfully. "Yes, and I fall in love with everyone who shares my bed."  _

_ "That's not love, Francis. That's sex."  _

_ "Who are you to tell me what is love and what is not? I have fallen in love a thousand times, and I will a thousand more."  _

_ "Urgh," said Gilbert loudly. "I can safely promise you, I will never fall in love."  _

_ Antonio gazed back up at the dark blue sky and breathed the warm, clean scent of lavender. "I will fall in love but once."  _

_ "How terribly boring, mon cher. I never would have thought I'd hear you moralising."  _

_ "I'm not moralising. You can sleep with whomever you choose - bonne chance; cuidate; viel Spass. I am simply saying that I believe you only ever truly love once."  _

_ Francis scoffed. "And just how are you supposed to tell this one true love from all the others?"  _

_ "Well, I don't know yet. But I will when it happens. It'll be something like, when you look at them, this one person, and you really, truly see them. It might be immediate, or it might not be the first time you look. And it might be earth shattering, but it could also be just a silent realisation. But it's when you look at them and you realise, beyond any doubt, that they are the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in all your life."  _

_ Francis gasped in mock revelation. "I think that happened with that barmaid last night..."  _

_ Gilbert snorted. "You're both insane. This stupid idea of love doesn't even exist."  _

_ Antonio shrugged. "Laugh all you want. But it will happen. When I see them... I'll know."  _

* * *

_ Spring, 1942 _

_ A village in Italy  _

* * *

The air was warm and still, the afternoon sun low and golden through the orange clouds as Lovino  and Grandpa Roma walked cheerfully down the country road towards home. Feliciano skipped excitedly around them. Someone had given him a glass of wine, which never failed to make him even more unbearably happy and energetic than usual. But today that was all right. Today Lovino did not mind. Because today was a good day for a free Italy. 

_ "O partigiano, portami via,"  _ sang Roma, his boisterous baritone almost echoing in the fields around them. 

_ "O bella, ciao! Bella, ciao! Bella, ciao, ciao, ciao!"  _ Feliciano was always the better singer. Lovino only sang when drunk. Which probably had something to do with why he joined in as his brother chanted the chorus cheerfully back at Grandpa Roma. 

_ "O partigiano, portami via..."  _

_ "Ché mi sento di morir!"  _

They all dissolved into wild peals of laughter. The mission that morning had gone perfectly - a truckload of weapons and vital information blown sky high - and the afternoon had been spent drinking, singing, and celebrating in the back room of the Cantina Verde. Lovino had actually been allowed along on the mission this time. Of course, he had done no more than stand with Grandpa Roma across the street as he gave the signal, but he had still been there. Still been a part of it. He was not sure if it was the wine or the exhilarating adrenaline still running through his veins that had him so exuberant. 

"What's next, Grandpa?" Lovino asked eagerly when he finally managed to bring his laughter under control. "A base? A supplies route? A secret location in town?" 

"Oh, Lovino," sighed Roma, smiling and clapping a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "Can't we just celebrate today?" 

"But we must think ahead, yes?" The sun dimmed behind the trees as they turned into the narrow lane leading to the house. "That's what you always say, and I showed you today that I can take more responsibility, and I really think it's time that I..." 

Lovino trailed off slowly as he looked up the road to the front door. There was someone standing before it. Lovino felt suddenly hot and dizzy as everything spun inside his head and time slowed to a stop. Feliciano gasped loudly, and Roma took a few hurried steps forward, holding his hand above his eyes and squinting. "Is that..." 

"Antonio!" Feliciano cried, bolting up the lane and throwing his arms around the laughing Spaniard. Roma laughed and followed him, clapping Antonio on the back, kissing his cheeks in exuberant greeting. Lovino just stood still, stunned, beyond any thought or feeling, watching the lively greeting from a distance. His entire world split apart, spun around, turned upside down. He had long ago lost track of the days since Antonio had left. All he really knew, now, was that he had not really expected him to come back. It took Lovino too long to move, to force himself to walk slowly up the lane. 

"It is so good to see you here finally!" said Roma, his loud voice carrying down the street. 

Antonio's grin shone down the lane, lit up the countryside. "It's good to be here, Roma." 

"Why were you gone so long? Where did you go? What did you see? Oh, oh, did you bring me presents?" 

"Of course I did, Feli!" 

Antonio finally looked up and smiled softly when Lovino eventually reached the doorstep. He looked exactly the same as Lovino remembered... and he evoked the exact same reaction. Still this fluttering in his heart, in his stomach; still this annoying ache that he could not suppress, could not control. Still this anger that Antonio had left, that he had not come back. After all this time - almost three years. Three years and not a thing had changed. Antonio smiled brightly, cheerfully, then rolled his eyes to the sky and laughed. "Not a damn thing." 

For a brief, mad moment Lovino thought Antonio had read his mind. Then he folded his arms and scowled. "Not a damn thing what?" 

Antonio just shook his head, his green eyes twinkling as he smiled that infuriating, perfect, terrible, wonderful smile. "Nothing." 

Roma opened the door, took Antonio's arm, and led him into the house. "Come in, come in! Let us not stand on the doorstep all day!" 

Feliciano bounced through the door, Lovino following slowly, still dazed and slightly confused. Antonio smiled the whole time: as Roma took his bags and offered him food and practically forced him into a seat at the table, as Feliciano laughed and asked endless questions, as it all went too fast over Lovino's head and he struggled to comprehend that Antonio was actually sitting before him, in his house, in his life. That he was really here, after all this time, no longer just an intangible dream in his memory but really here, smiling and laughing and answering Feliciano's questions and brushing his hair back and nodding and glancing over at Lovino so subtly, so briefly... 

Roma placed two bottles of wine on the table. "I'll fetch some glasses..." 

"I'll get them," Lovino almost shouted before quickly rushing into the kitchen. Once alone in the room he let out a deep, shaking breath and leant against the bench, staring at his hands before him. Three years and he thought he had gotten over this. But this reaction... this was stronger than he remembered. This threw him off balance; this was scary and unexpected and so intense it was painful. How could Antonio look so wonderful, his voice still so cheerful, his eyes still so warm and sparkling? How could he so easily shatter three years of trying to forget? 

Unbidden memory came quickly flooding back. Memories Lovino had tried to suppress, that he had played over in his head a hundred times. Antonio leaning towards him and whispering he was beautiful; holding his hand and saying he would protect him; singing in Spanish and handing him a guitar and looking down at him in the sun and calling him his  _ 'corazón _ .' And of course that moment, that moment that lived fixed in Lovino's memory, the one he replayed over and over in dark early hours alone. Antonio holding him close: the feel of his arms and his breath, the touch of his hands, those sensations he awoke and feelings he evoked that never really went away. And then, those same hands pushing him away. Lovino realised that he was still angry about it, after all these years. 

By now Lovino was practically gasping, defenceless against the memories and emotions that assaulted him relentlessly. Because now Antonio was back. In the next room. He was here, he was back, and this was real again, and Lovino didn't know how... 

"Lovino?" 

"Holy shit!" Lovino jumped and spun around. Feliciano squeaked. "Don't sneak up on people, Feliciano!" 

Feliciano held up his hands defensively. "But, I didn't, I..." 

"What the hell do you want?" 

"You said you were going to get glasses and you've been in here for fifteen minutes." 

"Oh. Right, fine, I'm..." Lovino opened the cupboard and reached for the wine glasses. "I'm coming now." 

Feliciano tilted his head. "Are you all right, Lovino? You seem..." 

"I'm fine!" Lovino slammed the cupboard door shut and stormed back into the front room. 

Sitting at the table while Antonio, Roma and Feliciano talked brightly and easily, Lovino felt at a complete loss. He did not know how to act, where to look, what to do with his hands. He searched for something to focus on and settled for the drink before him, quickly making his way through two glasses of wine before Roma took the bottle from him and told him to slow down. Lovino glared at the table, embarrassed, with no choice but to listen to Antonio's cheerful, lilting Spanish accent. It was obvious Antonio was only speaking of unimportant topics in front of him and Feliciano. He avoided mentioning anything about the war, instead chatting about silly things like the different cars they had in Belgium and the strange weather in Spain. He gave them presents from the places he'd been – chocolate from Switzerland, wine from France, books of poetry from England. And the whole time Antonio only ever gave Lovino the tiniest glances, the smallest smiles, while he laughed and joked and gave his full attention to Feliciano and Roma. Lovino started to wonder if the stupid bastard even noticed he was there. Not that he was upset by it, or hurt, because he wasn't, and he didn't care, he... 

"And how have you been, Lovino? Have you learnt to play your guitar?" 

Lovino froze. And stared. Antonio was looking at him. Smiling at him. Waiting for him to speak. And oh God, his brain had just shut down and he couldn't think of a single thing to say, he couldn't... 

Roma grinned broadly. "Lovino's lucky that his old Grandpa learnt to play back in the day. He inherited my natural talent, of course. He's a virtuoso on the thing, aren't you Lovino?" 

Antonio was still looking right at him. Lovino still couldn't speak. Why this nervousness, this tight knot in his throat and his chest and his gut making it impossible for him to say or do or think anything... Lovino looked down into his hands. "No," he managed to choke out. "Not really." He could have kicked himself. Luckily, Antonio quickly changed the subject. 

"What do you think of the book, Feli?" 

Feliciano tilted his head as he flipped quizzically through the book of English poetry Antonio had given him. "It says the poems are romantic but they're all just about mountains and roses and people shooting seagulls." 

Antonio laughed loudly. Lovino clenched his teeth. "'Romantic' refers to an artistic movement," Antonio explained. "It's not always about love." 

"Oh." Feliciano looked disappointed. 

Antonio smiled at Lovino. "But love poems are my favourite too, Feli." Lovino ignored him and reached for the wine bottle. 

Grandpa Roma forced Antonio to stay for dinner and the night continued the same way - Feliciano and Roma chattering on, Antonio laughing and asking them questions. Lovino staring silently at the table, the back of his neck burning and his stomach rolling with anger and jealousy and frustration. He barely ate, barely looked up, barely spoke the entire meal; but then, Antonio, Roma and Feliciano needed no help with the conversation. And Lovino was used to being ignored, after all. 

After what felt like all night, and like only an instant, Antonio finally put down his glass and started to stand. "I am afraid I have imposed on you far too long. It is time I headed back to my rooms in town." 

Lovino did not know if the feeling in his chest was relief or disappointment. But then Roma stood quickly and grasped Antonio's shoulder. "Nonsense, my friend. You have drunk far too much wine to make the trip safely. You will stay here tonight." 

Lovino took a deep gulp of air and immediately choked. He coughed, spluttered, gasped for breath, then grabbed a bottle of wine and took a few swigs to try and clear his throat. Finally catching his breath, Lovino looked up, eyes streaming, wine dripping from his mouth, to find everyone staring at him. 

"Wow," said Feliciano. "Are you all right?" 

Lovino's cheeks burned in humiliation. He took a few deep breaths, slammed the bottle down, and kicked the chair behind him as he stood. "Shut up. What the hell are you all looking at? Fuck off!" 

"Lovino!" shouted Roma, but Lovino ignored him and stormed from the room. 

Lovino refused to speak to Feliciano when he barrelled into the bedroom asking what was wrong, why he was so cranky tonight, why he wasn't happy to see Antonio like him and Grandpa Roma, why he just kept glaring angrily like that... Lovino simply ignored him and threw the blanket over his head, intent on a very long sleep-in the next morning. 

But he could not sleep. Of course he could not sleep. How the hell could he sleep when Antonio was in the next damn room? This was all so stupid, and he had only made a damn fool of himself all night, and he was so mad at himself that he acted this way, felt this way, and why could he not stop his thoughts from running like this and damn it all he needed some air. 

Lovino got out of bed and pulled on a shirt. He checked to see that Feliciano was asleep before leaving the room and heading down the hall into the kitchen. He pushed through the door into the back garden, stumbled a little, and realised he was still a little drunk. The night was warm, the  garden illuminated by the light of a nearly full moon. The nighttime air was scented with lily and rosemary. Lovino walked directly to the back wall, leant against it, and stared up at the starlit sky. It felt calmer out here; almost like he could finally begin to think clearly. But just as he started to lower his gaze, he noticed, from the corner of his eye, that someone was standing only metres away from him. A sharp jolt shot through his head and Lovino took a deep gasping breath, almost crying out as he placed a hand to his chest in shock. 

"Sorry, it's me, sorry!" Recognising Antonio almost made Lovino's shock worse. Could this night possibly get more embarrassing? "Sorry, Lovino, did I scare you?" Lovino looked at Antonio like he was insane, and tried to even his breathing. Antonio's face suddenly furrowed in concern. "Seriously, Lovino, are you all right?" 

"You stupid bastard, damn it, what the hell are you doing, you scared the absolute shit out of me, who the hell stands in other people's gardens at midnight, I mean oh my God, really!" 

Antonio bit back a smile and sucked in a breath through his teeth, shrugging apologetically. "Sorry." He scratched his head then held out a small packet. "Would you like a cigarette?" 

Lovino looked down at the offering warily, his breath coming a little easier. He narrowed his eyes. "Yes." He reached out and took one. He stared as Antonio put a cigarette between his own lips, struck a match, lit it, then held the light out to Lovino. Lovino lifted the cigarette uncertainly to his lips. Antonio held the match to it, smiling, his eyes glittering behind the flame. 

"Don't tell your Grandpa." 

Lovino had no idea why those words sent an aching, tingling, excited shiver shooting down his spine and across his skin. "It's none of his business anyway," said Lovino flippantly. "I'm eighteen years old, I can do what I like." Lovino took a draw on the cigarette and immediately dissolved into a coughing fit. 

"Don't inhale," said Antonio. He almost sounded like he was laughing. 

Lovino fought once again for breath before his lungs finally cleared. He glared up at Antonio, his eyes wet from coughing. "Why am I always left breathless around you?" Damn. That hadn't come out very well. "I... you... I mean... what are you doing here?" 

Antonio answered too easily. "I needed some air. It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" 

"No, I mean what are you doing here? Why did you come back now?" 

This time Antonio paused. "It was the right time. What with the Germans taking control, and..." Antonio stopped, then sighed, then shook his head almost disbelievingly, just gazing at Lovino. "But it is so good to see you again, Lovino. And you're so grown up!" 

Lovino shrunk back against the wall, feeling the need to hide from Antonio's eyes. "Well, that's what happens in three years." 

Antonio nodded and took a draw on his cigarette. He smiled at the ground. "I missed you." 

Lovino could suddenly feel his heart pounding within his chest. "I didn't even think of you." That was, of course, a total lie. Not a day had passed in three years that Lovino had not thought of Antonio. While the other village boys talked about girls, while Grandpa Roma joked about him getting a girlfriend, while he grew to understand just what was expected of a man and a woman... all Lovino thought of was Antonio. 

"That is understandable," said Antonio quietly. "I thought you might have forgotten me." Lovino didn't say it, but that was impossible. And he should know - he'd tried. 

"Why did it take you so long?" 

"Well, I was very busy." 

"And you couldn't visit once? Not once, in three years?" 

Antonio looked surprised. "Well, I..." 

"I was so confused when you left, you know. I wasn't sure if I had done something wrong, but you said that I hadn't, but you also said that you left because of me, and I never quite understood why." 

There was a very long pause as Antonio stared at him, as Lovino slowly processed what he had actually just said. He very nearly ran away, but then Antonio responded. "Lovino, I am so sorry. I think I told you once, that I was never very good at separating right from wrong – that I always felt too much to know the difference." Antonio broke off again, like he was debating whether to continue. Lovino waited silently, his heart fluttering, his hands shaking. The night was so still and silent around them; like they were somewhere far away, long ago, where things like this could be said to each other. Antonio took a deep breath before continuing. "Well, that was why I left. Because when I was around you, I could not stop the feelings that engulfed me. They screamed at me, overtook everything, blocked out all sense of what was appropriate and..." Antonio closed his eyes, furrowed his forehead, took a draw on his cigarette. "I shouldn't be saying this." 

Oh no. He couldn't stop there, not when Lovino was on the edge like this; his heart thumping, his head hazy, his knees weakening... "What feelings?" Lovino asked it softly, scared of the answer. "What do you mean?" 

Antonio opened his eyes. They were so much darker in the moonlight. "I'm not one to play games about things like this, so I'll be honest with you. You have a right to know. I have... feelings for you, Lovino. I always have. I wondered if going away would change anything. But of course it didn't." 

Lovino clutched onto the brick behind him, sweat rising across his skin. This conversation was heading somewhere he was not sure he wanted to follow. "Feelings? 

"Yes. Very strong feelings. Romantic feelings." 

Lovino gasped and looked away. He did not expect this. He felt like he would fall over any moment. "You mean... like the way a man feels about a woman?" 

Antonio spoke slowly. "Something like that. But men can feel that way about men, as well." 

Now Lovino's heart felt like it was being squeezed, his entire world turning upside down. "People say that is wrong." 

"People are afraid of what they do not understand." 

"So why... if its not wrong... why did you leave then?" 

Antonio took another shaking breath through his teeth. "You were fifteen, Lovino. Even now you're still..." Antonio broke off and sighed in frustration. "Even now I should not be saying this, I'm still so out of line. But I could not stay away any longer. Every night for the last three years I have thought of you. And seeing you now... my God, but how much I missed you, it's... it's stunning." 

Lovino shook his head, everything unreal and far away. He could not comprehend it. That anyone could say these things about him, could feel this way about him... No one ever said things like that about him. Hell, no one even liked him. Antonio must be confused; he could not mean this. This must be a mistake, Lovino must be misunderstanding... He stood still, the night silent around him, the forgotten cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. 

"I'm not asking you for anything, Lovino. It's just, as I said... you have a right to know." 

Lovino was beyond stunned. He was simply numb. "I... I don't..." Lovino spoke not to himself, not to Antonio, but just because he could not stop the words spilling from his lips. "I don't know what I'm supposed to..." 

"No," said Antonio quickly, severely. "You're not supposed to do anything." 

Breathing through the silence, Lovino finally looked up at Antonio: his green eyes so dark in the moonlight, his always cheerful, passionate face so like the image imprinted on Lovino's memory. He wondered exactly what Antonio's words meant. What possibilities were there, what it could all mean... and suddenly he couldn't breathe. "Oh." Lovino gulped for air, dropped the cigarette stub, turned away... He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself, and said it again, unable to stop. "Oh... oh..." 

" _ Mierda."  _ Antonio was suddenly right beside him, his face twisted in distress. When Antonio's hand almost brushed his Lovino nearly shouted. He reached out to hold onto him, to push him away, he didn't even know, and then he just settled for sinking to the ground. Antonio followed him, speaking quickly. "Forget it, Lovino, it was nothing. It never happened, all right? We'll just pretend that it never happened, and I never said those things, all right?" 

Lovino shook his head, then paused, then nodded, the whole time refusing to look at Antonio. He tried to calm down by thinking how stupid was he being, what a fool he was making himself, how ridiculous Antonio must think him. Why did he always overreact like this? Everyone thought Feliciano was silly and high-strung, but Lovino was just as bad. He was at least grateful that it was probably too dark for Antonio to see his cheeks burning in embarrassment. 

"Do you want me to go away?" 

Lovino looked up as Antonio asked the question slowly, reluctantly. And he realised... no. No, he didn't. Because out here, alone, in the middle of the night, it still felt like another time and place. So maybe it was all right to let his guard down for just a moment. "No." 

Antonio sat back slowly against the wall. Lovino covered his face with his hand, ashamed, but Antonio smiled at him. Lovino ran his hand over his eyes, looked up at the stars and the bright, nearly full moon. Everything felt so different here. 

"You are so beautiful in the moonlight." Antonio said the words so softly that Lovino was sure he was not meant to hear them. He scowled and kept his gaze up at the sky. 

"Don't say such stupid lies." 

"It's not a lie, Lovino. You really are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen..." Antonio gave a short, quiet laugh, almost a sigh. "In all my life." 

* * *

It was the first Resistenza meeting since Antonio had returned, and the cantina was full. Feliciano  sat drawing in the corner and Lovino sat on the table beside him, swinging his legs nervously as the meeting got well underway. But Lovino barely spared a glance for his Grandpa as Roma gave the usual speech about recent activities and constant vigilance. Instead, Lovino's eyes were fixed on Antonio. The night before felt like a dream. Lovino was not even sure it had happened. Surely that could not be real. Surely Antonio could not actually think those things about Lovino, could not feel that way for him. Antonio was a stupid bastard, sure, but no one was  _ that  _ stupid. Lovino chose to believe he had imagined most of it, and misunderstood the rest. Because that was easier to deal with. 

It took Lovino a few moments to realise that Antonio was staring right back at him. And smiling. Lovino turned bright red and concentrated on the picture Feliciano was drawing beside him. With his thoughts running wild and swift through his head and his nerves overtaking him, Lovino could hardly pay attention to the meeting until he realised Antonio was speaking. 

"The Germans have been using a few different supply routes, but none so important as this. This railroad is their most direct link to Austria and is being used to transport vital supplies to bases..." 

Lovino tilted his head to the side, bit his lip, and completely lost concentration once again. There was something different about Antonio when he spoke like this. Something exciting and passionate and confusing and just so... appealing. Everyone in the room sat hanging off his every word. 

"Our objective is simple. If they lose this rail line, we delay the Germans by months. This line must be destroyed." 

The room erupted in quiet words and murmurs. "We've never attempted anything like this before," said one of the men. 

"No. But the situation has never been so serious. This is just the start. From here, our attacks against the Germans are going to increase... as is the danger." 

A thrill ran across Lovino's skin at the words. And yet he was surprised by just how much those words worried him. Because this was what Antonio did, all the time, and Lovino started to realise how dangerous that actually was. And how much it scared him. 

Over the next few days Antonio quickly became a part of their lives once again. It was just as Lovino remembered. Antonio coming and going constantly, giving them silly presents and trinkets, staying for dinner after speaking privately with Grandpa Roma. Lovino was learning Antonio all over again, and trying desperately not to fall into this painful want and longing. But it was so hard when Antonio smiled at him like that, when he gazed at him from across the room, when all Lovino could think of was those words he had spoken in the garden, that life shattering confession. When he found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was some way that confession could become something more. But Antonio had left before, and he would leave again, or he would finally realise just what Lovino was really like and that he had made a huge mistake in these silly, misguided feelings for him. 

The evening before the mission, Antonio and Grandpa Roma spoke in the front room until well into the evening. Feliciano was already in bed, but Lovino sat waiting in the kitchen, sick with anticipation, scared and unsure, his stomach twisting nervously and his head pounding... Eventually, unable to stand it, Lovino jumped up and stormed into the room. Antonio and Roma both looked up in surprise. "I want to go with you." 

Antonio smiled, but Roma frowned and shook his head. "No. It is too dangerous." 

Lovino burned immediately with frustrated anger. Not only was Roma still treating him like a child, he was doing it in front of Antonio. Lovino glared at him, his hands in fists. "I know what I'm doing, Grandpa, I..." 

"Lovino, we are not having this conversation now. The answer is no. Besides..." 

"I don't have to do any fighting," Lovino pressed on desperately. "Surely you need someone to drive the car or something..." 

"The plans are already made, and we have no room for one more." 

"But just listen to me..." 

"NO, Lovino!" Roma looked at him as though he was a nuisance, a naughty child, and Lovino's eyesight blurred with rage. His pulse hammered in his head. He clenched his teeth and his fists, furious and humiliated. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, then glared at Roma defiantly. 

"I could go join the army tomorrow if I wanted, you know. I bet they wouldn't think I was too young." 

Roma just looked exasperated. "Don't say such stupid things, Lovino." 

"It's not stupid, it's the truth!" Then angrily, unthinking, wanting to hurt and anger Roma, Lovino shouted, "How would you like it if I went and joined the fascists? I'm sure I'd have more freedom with them than I do in this household!" 

Roma reacted immediately. He slammed his fist on the table before standing, furious, and taking an angry step towards Lovino. Then suddenly, shockingly, Antonio stood and moved between them. Everyone stopped. There was a heavy, silent pause as they registered what just happened. Even Antonio looked surprised as Lovino stared at him wide-eyed, Roma glaring with an expression of confusion and anger. And then Antonio laughed. 

"If it's action you want, Lovino, I don't suggest joining the Italian army. I believe they recruit based on how fast you can run away with a battle raging at your back. Sadly different from the days of the Great War, Roma, no? Which reminds me, I've been wanting to ask about your famous evasion technique before the sixth battle of the Isonzo. I've been thinking of how we could use this brilliant move in a smaller setting. I'm sure you have some ideas." 

Roma narrowed his eyes, flicked them quickly between Antonio and Lovino. But Antonio just kept smiling easily, and eventually Roma nodded slightly and took a step back. "It is interesting you should mention that. Run along, Lovino." 

Still furious, but now also confused and irritated and very strangely, slightly flattered, Lovino raced out of the room, through the kitchen, and into the garden. He felt like screaming. Instead he walked to the wall, kicked it, then spun around and leant back heavily against it. What the hell had just happened? Why had Antonio moved between him and Roma like that, almost as if trying to... protect him? That was ridiculous, he didn't need protection from his Grandpa. But then Antonio seemed to have done it unthinkingly, automatically. Lovino put his hands to his head as though trying to prevent it exploding. He could not deal with this. He was never good at handling his emotions, but whenever Antonio was around it just became a thousand times more confusing. Did Antonio even know what he did to Lovino? If he did, would he stop? And more importantly - would Lovino want him to? 

Closing his eyes, Lovino felt his skin cool in the slight evening breeze, his pulse start to slow and even. He refused to admit to himself what he was waiting for. But his stomach twinged nervously, his head spinning in anticipation of something he could not quite grasp. 

Eventually, the sound of footsteps approached and Lovino opened his eyes to see Antonio smiling down at him. Lovino's pulse raced again, but he just frowned back. "Well. I supposed I had better ask you to be careful tomorrow." 

"I will." 

"And I'll... I will see you after the mission." 

"Yes." Antonio's eyes shone in the moonlight and he laughed softly. "Please don't go and join the army in the meantime." Lovino glared and opened his mouth to answer, but bit back the words and looked at the ground. "Did you want to say something?" asked Antonio cheerfully. 

"No!" 

"Well all right, then. Goodbye, Lovino." Antonio turned to leave, and Lovino's chest crowded with panic and doubt. 

"Wait, Antonio, I..." Antonio looked back slowly, hopefully. Lovino fought to return his gaze. Damn, this was so hard. "I've been thinking about your words. Here, in the garden, last time. When you told me..." But he couldn't finish the sentence. 

"I remember," said Antonio softly. 

"Well... that's all. I've just... been thinking about them." 

Antonio smiled. "All right." 

Lovino scowled at Antonio, afraid of how he might interpret the words. "That doesn't mean anything, you know, it doesn't mean that I..." And Lovino had dug himself into a hole. What a stupid thing to say... He frowned bitterly and folded his arms violently. "You can go now." 

Antonio laughed again, his face so handsome and carefree in the soft light. Then he reached out for Lovino's hand and lifted it slowly. Lovino felt the touch shoot through every part of him, felt it fire through his head and burn through his veins and stop his breath. He tried to pull his hand back; he could not make himself do it. This was the first time Antonio had touched him since he had arrived back... the first time in three years. And then the whole world spun around when Antonio lifted Lovino's hand to his lips and kissed it gently, smiling down with sparkling eyes. " _ Adios, mi corazón. _ " 

Lovino could only scowl and snatch back his hand. He did not know what else to do. Antonio laughed, nodded, and strolled out the back gate, whistling as he went. As soon as he was gone, Lovino gasped for breath, an unwanted smile spreading uncontrollably across his face. His head felt light with giddiness and he almost glided up the house, laughter close to bubbling over, all anger and embarrassment gone in the uncontainable happiness of this moment. He went to walk through the back door, only to stop short, abruptly, the smile falling immediately from his lips. Grandpa Roma stared down at him in the doorway, his expression dark. 

"Grandpa." 

Roma's darkened eyes flicked over to the back gate, then back to Lovino. "Lovino, you are never to be alone with Antonio, do you understand me?" 

Lovino bit back a gasp, then tried to look confused. "But Grandpa, what..." 

Roma nearly yelled the words. "Do you understand me?" 

Lovino choked off a protest and simply nodded, his eyes on the ground, his heart falling to his feet. "Yes, Grandpa." 

"Good boy. Now go to bed." 

Anger. Humiliation. Futile frustration. Lovino nodded again. "Yes, Grandpa." 

* * *

"It was unexpected. A small group of station guards. They were just as surprised as we were. We took them down but lost some of our own, and we had to escape immediately..." 

Lovino had come early to the cantina to meet Grandpa Roma and hear the results of the previous night's mission. He hadn't been quite sure what to expect. A quiet debriefing, an empty room, wild celebrations like last time maybe. Instead he stood listening as Roma explained what had gone wrong, why they had failed. But Lovino didn't need to know all this. Why Grandpa Roma's shirt was red with blood, why the members of the mission looked worn and dead-eyed, why extra patrols had been placed around the streets outside, why people sat in the corners staring blankly and angrily. He only needed to know one thing. 

"Antonio," he asked, his voice cracking slightly. "How is Antonio?" 

Lovino pretended not to notice the quick, sharp glance Roma shot him. He just stared at the wall, waiting for the answer. "The bullet only grazed his side. It was deep enough, however. He has lost a lot of blood." 

A sickening hot shudder ran down Lovino's spine. The air turned thick and slow around him, his head caught in a hazy place where everything was too dark and too fast. "Where is he?" he finally managed to choke out, his throat dry. 

Roma did not answer. After a long pause, one of the members said, "The side room there has become our little hospital." 

Lovino did not wait to hear anymore. Too lost in his terrifying emotions to think about what he was doing, he ran across the room to the side door, ignoring the shout that came after him. 

"Wait, he's sleeping..." 

Lovino did not stop. He threw open the door, then immediately recoiled at the smell of blood that hit him. Antonio lay on a red stained mattress, his eyes closed, his face white, his chest rising and falling evenly. Bloody bandages wrapped around his body and littered the ground; metallic bowls and instruments sat upon the centre table. Lovino's body was stone; his head was fire. A horrified fear rolled in his stomach as a hundred awful, unbearable thoughts attacked him. What if this was it? What if Antonio died? What if Lovino had only realised how he felt just in time to lose everything... What would he do, what could he do, oh God, what was he supposed to do! He was terrified, panicking, and all he wanted was to scream. 

"He's going to be all right, Lovino." Lovino did not turn at the sound of Grandpa Roma speaking just behind him. He kept his eyes on Antonio, on his pale, sleeping face, on his bloodied side. "He is wounded, yes, but he will survive." 

Lovino felt dizzy, sick. The walls closed in on him - his breath too fast, his pulse hot and pounding - and it was all too much. He had to get out. He turned and ran through the room, unheeding of the looks shot his way. He ignored Roma calling behind him. 

His feet pounded on the hard stones and it was all still so unreal, so heavy and strange and stifling, but more than anything it was terrifying. This crawling, spinning, horrified fear that crowded his mind, shook his body, suffocated his lungs. He could not stand this fear. Lovino  reached the end of the street before the rolling nausea in his stomach rose and overcame him. He fell against the wall, steadied himself with a hand against the cold stone, then bent over and vomited onto the pavement. 

Lovino could not deal with this. It was not worth it. Nothing was worth this feeling - of caring so much about someone that the very idea of them leaving or dying left him a frantic mess, sick and shaking and burning and freezing, with this feeling that his chest was going to rip apart and darkness was going to engulf him and he was going to collapse and scream and break into a million pieces. 

The realisation was sudden, stunning. If he loved Antonio, he would have so much to lose. And one day, he would. Because what Antonio did was too dangerous. One day Lovino would be destroyed... and he could not endure it. He could not endure any more of this. Lovino wiped his mouth and stumbled down the street, ignoring the concerned and disgusted looks of the few passersby. And he came to the decision. It would be easier to close off his heart now, to stop this silly little infatuation before it went any further. And besides, look at him – a broken mess, a pathetic coward, a worthless, powerless, friendless weakling who was still treated like a child. He would be doing poor, deluded Antonio a favour, too. 

Lovino refused to return to the cantina over the following days. Instead he spent his time at home, sometimes venturing to the village market with Feliciano. He knew Grandpa Roma was starting to worry about him, but Lovino easily ignored him. He did not ask about Antonio, though he burned to know; luckily Feliciano solved that problem with his constant, insistent questions about Antonio's well being. Lovino was desperately relieved to hear that Antonio was doing even better than expected, though he never asked or acted like he was the slightest bit interested. Roma continued organising missions, but Lovino no longer asked to go... he could not handle seeing Antonio. And always there was this voice inside of him; a tiny, stupid, insistent voice that told him how stupid he was being, how selfish, how completely idiotic... a voice that knew he was lying to himself. 

Lovino tried to convince himself that if he did not see Antonio, then these feelings would all go away, and everything would go back to normal. But even as he thought it he knew that could never happen. And of course he could not avoid Antonio forever. So when he walked into the kitchen one afternoon and overheard Antonio speaking with Grandpa Roma in the front room, everything he had tried so hard to suppress came flooding back, engulfing him, pouring through every part of him. 

"This was merely a setback. We will see many such hindrances in the coming months. What matters is how quickly we fight back, how soon we can get on our feet. A few lives mean nothing to the fascists... we can not afford to let them mean more to us." 

Until recently, Lovino would have listened avidly. But today he fled the sound of Antonio's voice, ran into the sunny garden, hid himself in a far corner behind a bed of sage and rosemary. It was childish, he knew, and it was foolish. And yet, it was all he could think to do. 

This should not change anything, Lovino tried to tell himself. He was still uninterested in Antonio. He still didn't care. It still wasn't worth it. Oh God, he was still lying. No matter how he tried to change it, every thought he'd had for weeks now, all the avoiding and waiting and ignoring, had all been tied to one man, to one desire, to one fear. And when Antonio walked out the back door  and into the garden, Lovino felt his resolve strengthen, weaken, fall away, disappear. The early summer sun shone down, bright and hot, forcing Lovino's inadequate hiding spot into blazing view. Antonio simply walked over to him, smiled down in a way Lovino could not bear to see. 

"I've missed you this last week." 

Lovino did not respond. He looked away from that smile, rested his arms on his knees, fidgeted with a sprig of rosemary. 

Antonio left a silence for Lovino to respond, before filling it himself. "Are you well?" 

Lovino nodded. He knew he should be the one asking Antonio that. But he didn't - he couldn't. Even as the relief of seeing Antonio standing healthy and well before him turned his body weak, Lovino could not possibly say the words. Antonio waited in silence for a few seconds that began to feel like hours, until Lovino blurted out, "Grandpa told us you were fine. Feliciano was worried." 

"Was he?" Antonio's voice was almost amused. "Were you?" 

Lovino could barely stand this pressure. Why couldn't Antonio leave him alone, why did he have to stand here smiling and asking these questions Lovino had no way of answering... What did Antonio expect? What did he want? Lovino felt sweat start to rise on his neck. He had to leave before he lost control and screamed. "I am glad you are well." He scrambled to his feet. "I have to go now." 

"Lovino, wait." 

Why did he have no choice but to stop... why did he have no choice but to wait for Antonio to continue? 

"They told me you came by the cantina. When I was injured." 

Lovino gritted his teeth, fixed his eyes on the kitchen door across the garden. "Yes." 

Antonio stepped towards him. Lovino's breath came faster, even as he jerked his head away. "I was happy to hear that you... that you were concerned." 

"I was worried for the cause." Lovino said it too quickly. 

"Of course." Antonio said it too easily. 

Lovino put his hands in his pockets and twisted his foot into the ground. This conversation was so difficult. He did not know what to say, what Antonio wanted him to say, what he himself wanted to say. He finally forced himself to bring his gaze back to Antonio, but the look in Antonio's eyes brought back too many memories. Of words said years ago...  _ Maybe you'll understand one day _ ... Of ones spoken only weeks ago...  _ I have... feelings for you, Lovino _ ... The memory sent an excited, yearning flutter through Lovino's veins. He felt so close to giving in... But there was nothing there to fall into. Lovino could not feel this, could not accept it. He had to stop this now. Lovino closed  his eyes and breathed out all his useless hopes, his broken desires. Then he opened them, and spoke. 

"Do you remember, Antonio... the first night after you came back. Our conversation in this garden. The words you said to me." 

"Yes." Antonio's expression was almost hopeful. But that hurt too much, so Lovino looked away. 

"Well I just... I just... I want you to know that... I..." Oh God he was going to say this... He tried to convince himself that he was doing this as much for Antonio as himself. "I do not have those feelings for you." 

Antonio blinked in surprise. "Oh." He narrowed his eyes in confusion, his expression uncertain. "But Lovino..." 

"You need to know that." This was better for him, better for Antonio, better for everyone... 

"I am sorry, but somehow, I was starting to think..." 

"No!" Lovino could not let Antonio weaken his resolve. "Look, it's easy to understand. I don't feel anything for you. I never will. So stop this. Stop staring at me, and stop giving me things, and stop calling me your ' _ corazón'  _ because I know what that means!" Lovino almost tripped over the words. This hurt so much... hurt so much to say these things, to see the look on Antonio's face, but Lovino tried to convince himself it would hurt more to admit the truth, so he just kept going. "I'm not like you, Antonio. I don't feel anything for you, because it's not normal and frankly... frankly it's quite disgusting as well." 

Lovino could see the words hit Antonio. He flinched briefly, his face turning white and his eyes dropping to the ground. "Oh. I see." 

"You expect too much. And you wear your feelings too plainly. So I... I am..." Lovino faltered but quickly pressed on. "I am asking you to hide them." 

Antonio nodded, his hands in fists and his jaw clenched. Then he gave a little sigh, a shrug, and smiled at Lovino. "I will try, Lovino. I will endeavour to behave more appropriately in future." Lovino blinked rapidly, breathed through the rising tears and the crushing in his chest, and felt Antonio's bright gaze and smile like a knife. Antonio inclined his head slightly. His accent grew stronger as he spoke. "I apologise for any distress I have caused you. It was unforgivable of me. And I also apologise for mistaking my own selfish desires for reality." Antonio turned on his heel, and Lovino had to fight back a sob, had to stop himself from reaching out to stop him. Antonio paused briefly at the back gate. "But Lovino. I will never apologise for loving you." 

When Antonio walked out the gate Lovino sank down against the wall, put his head in his hands, and finally let the tears break. He tried to convince himself this was right, that he was shielding his heart, that he was protecting himself from pain. But he couldn't stop the thought that screamed at him stupidly, insistently. How could anything possibly hurt more than this? 

* * *

_ Christmas, 1934 _

_ A village in Germany  _

* * *

_ "So, Antonio, what happens if this one person of yours decides they don't feel the same way about  _ _ you?"  _

_ Gilbert groaned loudly. "Are we really talking about this again?"  _

_ "Oh hush, drink your glue wine."  _

_ "GLUEHWEIN!" Gilbert shouted before taking another deep swig of the liquid. The table before them was covered with empty plates and half filled bottles and crumpled coloured paper, the last remnants of a truly magnificent Christmas dinner. No one did Christmas like the Germans.  _

_ "Well," said Antonio, trying to think of a way to respond to Francis' question. "That is the risk, isn't it? You can not stop yourself from loving someone, and you can not control how that person feels. If they do not love you..." Antonio shrugged. "They do not love you."  _

_ Francis looked appalled. "But how terribly depressing! You are trying to say that you fall in love just once, and if that person does not love you, then there goes the only chance you get?"  _

_ "It is unfair, isn't it. But what can you do?"  _

_ "What you can do is spend a week weeping over them - eating too much, drinking too much, having filthy, dirty, fabulous sex with strangers - and then forget them forever."  _

_ Gilbert waved his glass before Antonio's face. "No, what you can do is spread rumours that'll follow them forever, so the little shit never forgets they messed with the wrong guy."  _

_ Antonio rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about loving someone in expectation of anything in return. I'm talking about loving someone because of who they are. Because of the way they talk, they smile, they fight; because of what they say and what they believe; because of all the wonderful, annoying, beautiful, frustrating, stupid, lovely, embarrassing things they do and they are. Because they are the one person in all the world who makes you finally understand how perfectly, intricately amazing a human being can be. And if they do not love me it changes nothing, because I will not love them so they love me, I will love them because I have no other choice."  _

_ "Antonio." Gilbert shook his head and sighed in frustration. "You are one stupid, melodramatic bastard."  _

_ Antonio flashed him a wild grin. "But come on. With lines like that, no one is gonna be able to resist me for long."  _


End file.
